Remembrance
by Lisa4
Summary: Sequel to "Innocence." Ten years after their fated meeting, a chance encounter with Usagi leaves Mamoru with an agonizing dilemma: to try and get closer to the girl who no longer remembers him, or to let her go.
1. Remembrance Prologue

_Title: Remembrance_

_Author: Lisa_

_Chapter: Prologue _

_Rating: PG_

_Author's Notes:_

_Hi minna! It's been awhile, but I'm back with my latest project, a multi-part sequel to "Innocence." I've been toying with the idea of a sequel for some years now, but never got around to writing one. It shouldn't be longer than 3-4 chapters (if that), which I'm hoping to complete in the next few weeks. Hope you enjoy this short chapter, and please review at the end!_

_Disclaimer: Sailor Moon and the others don't belong to me, but this story does._

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><p>"<em>Silly Mamoru, always!"<em>

Always, she had said. Always. I had clung to that word, that unconditional promise that I would not be forced to remain alone in this harsh, unforgiving universe for the rest of my days, like a lifeline for the remainder of my stay in the hospital.

Weeks passed, then months, and gradually my body erased all physical traces of the accident that had crushed my innocence. Where my body healed, however, my mind could not. As months drifted into years, I would lie wide awake night after night on the hard bunk bed in the orphanage, listening to the soft snores of my other ill-fated companions, my morbid fantasies conjuring up and replaying the crash again and again like a broken record forever stuck upon a heartbreaking tune. The result was always the same; I'd be left without even the memory of my own name.

Yet as my subconscious teetered on the edge of that dark pit of agony, _her_ voice would break free from the black clouds above, throwing me that desperately-needed rope to pull me over from my personal cliff of despair.

Usagi. Always.

A decade later, and her open declaration still rang loud and clear in my dreams. It was pathetic, perhaps, but could a starving man really be faulted for rosy memories of the first feast to break his fast? Ten long years of clinging onto a memory of a girl I'd likely never encounter again. Perhaps she had moved away from these busy streets of Tokyo, moved on without any further thought of the broken boy drowning in the hospital sheets all those years past. Perhaps…

I sighed, shading my eyes from the rays of sunlight that always managed to dance past my fully closed blinds. I threw the blankets from my body and let the cold air immediately grip me, effectively chasing away the fog of night and traces of a certain blond-haired angel. I mechanically began my daily morning routine—which mostly consisted of ensuring that my coffeemaker dutifully brewed the dark liquid without which I'd likely cease to function—and soon found myself standing on my balcony, peering down at the masses of people already scrambling about in preparation for the upcoming festivities. Now armed with a cup of steaming coffee, I examined the crowds with disinterested eyes. It was as if everyone was moving, everyone had a purpose, a destination...except me, the boy who masqueraded as a man forever searching for his destiny.

Catching the rather ominous turn of my thoughts, I decided that a trip to see my best (who was I kidding, and only) friend was in order. Motoki's never-ending optimism always amazed me, and I thanked whichever lucky star I still had watching over me that I had not scared him away like many others who had the misfortune of crossing paths with me.

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><p>Motoki slid a steaming cup of coffee toward me with a knowing glance.<p>

"Dreams again last night?" he asked sympathetically. That was Motoki, always straight to the point. I took comfort in his simplicity; Motoki was never one to keep you guessing as to what he was thinking.

"Why else would I be like this?" I grumbled into my cup and took a long sip, allowing the dark liquid to soothe my frazzled nerves.

"Did you dream of_ her_?"

I had shared the details of my past with Motoki years ago, although it had taken weeks for me finish sharing the entire story. A hefty portion of my sorrowful tale had centered on Usagi. He tried to be understanding, to be sure, yet somehow I don't think he comprehended exactly how much she meant to me. '_When you've suffered a deeply traumatic event, you're bound to cling onto that one good thing that makes the rest a little more bearable_,' he had said. '_It's human nature_.' I had bit back the urge to snap at him, as if Usagi could be reduced to some line discussing the human mind in a psychology textbook. No, she had been—was still—more to me than that. She had seen me, the real me, and accepted my imperfections with open arms and a smile. She had been young, to be sure, but I had foolishly judged her by her age once and wasn't about to make that mistake again.

"Are you surprised?"

Luckily Motoki didn't seem annoyed with my evasive method of answering.

"Oh Mamoru. I bet it's this time of year that has you down. Don't worry, a few more days and things will be back to normal. No more of this sappy, 'everyone is so happy and thankful' stuff."

I smiled ruefully, knowing that Motoki himself had plenty to be happy and thankful for. His girlfriend Reika, for example, who rivaled Motoki in her pleasantness.

"Hai, you're right," I played along, not wanting to let on to Motoki that his efforts to cheer me up were proving unsuccessful.

"Tell you what, Mamoru. Why don't you come with me and Reika to my parents' place for New Year's dinner? They've been asking about you, and you know you're always welcome. And afterward, I'm sure there are a few parties we could crash."

I cringed. Motoki had a great family—the kind of family I imagined I once had—and I'd be lying if I said his mother wasn't an excellent cook. Yet every time I went, I couldn't help feeling like an imposter, as if I were forcing myself into someone else's happily ever after. How did the old adage go, 'misery loves company?' I at least had the decency to not drag anyone else down with me, especially during the holidays.

"Arigato Motoki, but I have plans…" That sounded pathetic even to my ears.

"Brooding in front of your television doesn't count," he joked. Motoki knew me too well.

"I'll think about it, then," I replied grudgingly, annoyed that I was apparently that transparent, then tossed the remainder of the cooling coffee into my mouth and counted out the change for the drink. "I better get going. I have some work I need to finish." If lying in my bed staring blankly at the ceiling counted as work, that is.

"But you're on break, Mamoru." Of course, leave it to Motoki to state the obvious. I really needed to meet someone who wasn't privy to my every movement.

"Ja." I waved goodbye and pretended not to hear Motoki's disappointed sigh. He really was everything a man could want in a best friend, and I fervently hoped that he wouldn't wake up one day and regret befriending a lost cause.

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><p>Now on my third cup of coffee for the day (my goal of cutting my caffeine consumption could wait until the new year, I resolved), I plopped down on my couch with a groan. Classes wouldn't start again for another week, which meant another week where I was at a loss in finding enough items to occupy my waking hours. I had already gotten ahead on readings for my classes next semester, re-read favorite works that had started to collect dust on my bookshelves, re-ordered my furniture to maximize space efficiency, and even cleaned around the apartment until the very last dust bunny had fallen to my meticulous, boredom-driven cleanliness. Having exhausted my daily visit to see Motoki—he may be my best friend, but I doubt event the saintly Motoki could handle multiple doses of Mamoru in one day—I found myself terribly restless. Before long, I knew from ample experience, the dark thoughts would begin demanding entrance into my consciousness once more. I really hated the holidays.<p>

Imagine my surprise when my doorbell suddenly pierced through the deafening silence of my room. Motoki was still in the middle of his shift, so I knew it couldn't be him barring some unknown catastrophe. No one else knew my address as far as I was aware. The second ring further piqued my interest, and I stood up from my couch and placed the half-empty mug of coffee on the table nearby.

A third ring followed louder and longer than the first two, and with it came a voice that stopped me dead in my tracks about two feet from my closed door.

"Minako-chan, open up! It's me!" The voice was high-pitched and reminded me of those holiday bells that had always caused me such a headache. Indeed my head _was_ swimming, but certainly not from annoyance…

The voice was deeper, of course. Ten years would do that to a person. I found myself almost unable to breathe as images of a certain tiny blond-haired girl presented themselves like a slideshow in my brain. Memories of her smile, her touch, her words…everything came back in a rush, and it was only sheer panic that kept me from breaking down my own door right there and then.

Could it be…?

I opened the door, and as blue met blue in a startling clash of gazes, all doubts as to her identity fled my mind. My angel had finally re-appeared after all these wretched years, and I found myself all but trembling in her presence.

I opened my mouth, but my vocal chords had conveniently decided to stop working.

"You're not Minako…" Her face flushed, and she squinted at the half-crumbled piece of paper in her hand. My eyes hungrily followed hers and barely made out the scratches on the paper, which seemed to form an address. "Oops, I'm supposed to be on the twelfth floor, not tenth." Her cheeks were the most delightful shade of pink, and I memorized her perfectly round face, her eyes, her rosebud mouth… The years had been incredibly kind to her.

"Gomen, I got the wrong floor. Didn't mean to bother you!"

My mind snapped out of its Usagi-induced haze when I realized that she was leaving me.

"Wait, Usagi…" I hoped that didn't sound too desperate, but that this point I was fairly certain I'd fall to my knees and beg her to stay if that would change anything.

She froze, her back to me as I again found it impossible to breathe. I needed to see her face again, needed to see whether…did she not…?

She turned around, and I wanted to cry out as soon as I saw the confusion and unmistakable dash of fear in her eyes. She really didn't…

"I'm sorry, but…how do you know my name?"

She really didn't remember me.

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><p><em>Well, there you have it! I didn't mean for the beginning to be that angsty, but poor Mamo really just brings that out… Anyway, next chapter should be out around New Year's. I promise there will be some holiday fluff to come! :) As always, please leave me a quick review at the end. I'd love to hear from you!<em>

_This story was written and posted December 2014. _


	2. Remembrance Chapter 1

_Title: Remembrance_

_Author: Lisa_

_Chapter: 1_

_Rating: PG  
><em>

_Author's Notes:_

_Here's the next chapter of "Remembrance!" Special thanks to __**GraphicsChyk**__, __**mae-E**__, __**animegirl73**__, and __**Syulai**__ for your kind reviews. Enjoy, and I'd love to hear your thoughts at the end!_

_Disclaimer: Sailor Moon and the others don't belong to me, but this story does._

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><p>"I—" I swallowed to rid myself of the sizeable lump that had formed in my throat. In all these years, all those wistful fantasies in which I'd played out the circumstances of our reunion in excruciating detail, never once had I mentally prepared myself for my current predicament. I had expected her eyes to light up with unexpected recognition and nostalgic fondness—had secretly hoped that she'd confess thinking about me with some frequency. I could've handled it even if she'd admitted that I had not crossed her mind in years. Yet to have my existence erased from her memory altogether…<p>

I felt traitorous tears burn the corners of my eyes and blinked them back with a sudden rush of anger. I hadn't cried in years, and I wasn't about to start now in front of the girl who had forgotten me.

"Gomen," I spoke finally, my voice barely above a whisper, "I thought you were someone else. Someone I knew a long time ago."

I was relieved as the fear dissipated from her magnificently blue eyes, now replaced entirely with confusion.

"You mean you know—or knew—someone else named Usagi?" It sounded a bit ridiculous when she put it like that, but she certainly couldn't have been the _only_ Usagi in the entirety of Japan, right?

"Hai," I lied, "what a coincidence, ne?" I shifted uncomfortably under her half-disbelieving gaze. "Anyway, it's no problem. The elevators are to the left and will take you where you need to go."

"Oh…" she said softly, momentarily distracted, and my heart skipped a beat. She shook her head slightly and crumbled the small slip of paper in her palm. "Arigato. Have a good day."

"You too." I dared to take one last hungry glance at Usagi, memorizing her delicate features with frantic speed. "Happy holidays." Ignoring every fiber of my being screaming for me to stop, I reached over to close the door on the one good thing in my past that now proved to be my biggest disappointment.

"Wait." My fingers froze over the wooden frame. "It's silly, but…" She bit her lip in hesitation. I drank in the sight, wondering how the simple gesture could have such a maddening effect on me. "Well, I think it's a bit unfair that you know my name now, and I don't know yours." She looked at me shyly from beneath her long eyelashes, and I chuckled despite myself.

"It's Mamoru," I volunteered.

"Mamoru…" I loved the sound of my name on her lips.

She seemed to toy with the information; how I wished at that moment to be privy to the inner workings of that beautiful head of hers. After the longest minute of my life, she graced me with a smile that blinded me with its brightness. "Happy holidays to you too, Mamoru."

Usagi turned and all but skipped toward the elevator, and I gazed longingly at her petite frame for as long as I could before getting caught. The click of the closing door resounded hollowly about the confines of my apartment. Alone again. My legs carried me mechanically to the couch, and I sunk on the cushions with a groan.

She didn't remember me. She had said always, but apparently only I was foolish enough to take her words to heart. I gritted my teeth as images of her youthful smiling face flashed before me. She had looked at me with such inviting warmth, such pure sincerity that only made the present reality all the more painful.

I jumped up and grabbed my coat. Poor Motoki would have to deal with my gloominess twice this afternoon.

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><p>I nodded in gratitude as Motoki wordlessly refilled my cup. My nerves were long shot from over-caffeination, but I didn't care. It was a small price to pay considering the alternative, where I would've likely found myself curled up on my bed in a useless ball of agony.<p>

"So you're telling me she just…didn't remember? At all?" I sighed. Just how many times did Motoki insist on asking me that question?

"Like I said, there was nothing. No recognition…I was a complete stranger to her." My trembling hands clenched the mug.

"Careful there, Mamoru." Motoki eyed his mug nervously, and I loosened my grip with an apologetic glance. "Okay, so she didn't remember. And you're positive it was the same Usagi?"

"How many Usagis do you know, Motoki?" I responded wryly before I closed my eyes tiredly, her face taunting me. "It was her. She's even more beautiful now as a young woman, but her face…her eyes…"

"Mamoru," he said, and I met his green eyes after hearing the worry in his voice. "The way you talk about her, it—it's not very healthy." My eyes narrowed instinctively, and he raised his hands in reconciliation. "All I'm saying is…I know she meant a lot to you, but…there are other girls. Plenty of them, I'd imagine, who'd love it if you'd so much as looked their way…" He trailed off, and I massaged my now throbbing temples.

"Motoki…"

"It's your life," he sighed, "I'm just your rambling best friend. But can you at least spend New Year's with Reika and me? I'd hate to have you sitting in the dark thinking who knows what kind of depressing thoughts."

I laughed a little. Now, more than ever, I was thankful to have Motoki in my life. "Deal."

He grinned, then furrowed his brow no doubt due to some sobering thought. I sipped my coffee and waited patiently until Motoki inevitably spoke his mind.

"Say Mamoru," he said carefully, and I had a feeling I wasn't going to like what he had to say. "With Usagi…so that's it?"

"What do you mean?" The pain that had temporarily abated now slammed into me with surprising force, leaving me almost breathless.

"I mean, you're not going to try and jog her memory, or at least try and see her again?"

"What's the point?" I asked sadly. "If she doesn't remember, then she probably doesn't _want_ to remember. Why would I force something on her that she doesn't want?"

"She was only five then," he pointed out, and liking that train of thought, eagerly continued, "and how much do we really remember at five? I doubt she's purposely blocking you from her memory."

"You're saying you remember nothing from when you were five?"

He faltered. "Part of it," he conceded, "but you have to admit things are fuzzy from back then."

"I wouldn't know," I answered quietly and saw the color immediately drain from Motoki's face.

"Oh Mamoru, I'm so sorry. That was completely insensitive of me." I didn't begrudge him. It wasn't his fault that I only possessed memories of half my life, after all.

"Don't worry about it," I said as gently as I could. "I've taken up enough of your time today. Thanks for listening." He was still frowning, and I placed my hand on his shoulder. "I mean it."

Having succeeding in depressing another living soul for the day, I decided it was best I made my exit before I could do any further damage.

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><p>That was how I found myself fretting over the buttons on my elevator half an hour later. I <em>should<em> have pressed "10," returned to my apartment to wallow in my self-misery, and tried to erase the one streak of light in my otherwise black existence. I _should_ have tried to forget her as she had forgotten me.

Instead, the ding of the elevator signaled my rather shameful arrival on the twelfth floor. As the doors slid open, I hesitated, fully aware that my next actions were likely the ones of a madman. Yet that didn't stop me from walking down the hall, scanning the numbers on the doors until I found my destination: the same apartment number, only two floors higher, which housed a certain "Minako" who I now sought out to further feed into my insanity. I wasn't sure what exactly I was looking to achieve in speaking to Usagi's friend. Perhaps I just wanted some window into Usagi's world, some tantalizing glimpse into how she had spent her years surrounded by loving friends and family.

It wasn't until after I'd pressed the doorbell that I realized Usagi might still be with Minako. It seemed like forever had passed since my chance meeting with her, but a quick glance at my watch revealed that only two hours had actually gone by. Panic shot through my veins like electricity and left me trembling.

"Coming!" I heard a cheerful voice shout from through the closed door and swallowed nervously. I had a few seconds to run. Perhaps I'd still make it to the stairway in time, perhaps…

I came face to face with a slight girl with blond hair and bright blue eyes. Minako bore such an initial resemblance to Usagi that I could only stare with my mouth slightly open as she peered curiously at her unfamiliar visitor. This was a mistake, I thought frantically. I had made a mistake and needed a miracle to get out of this mess with some shred of dignity intact.

"Can I help you?" she asked kindly, and I dearly hoped she didn't notice my quickly reddening face. I took small comfort in the fact that at least Usagi no longer seemed to be with her.

"No, I'm sorry, I…" I was rapidly losing my mind. "I'm truly sorry to bother you." I turned to leave but was stopped by her firm grasp on my wrist. I drew in a sharp breath at the unexpected contact, and she pulled away immediately.

"Please, wait," she said, her eyes searching for answers that I wasn't quite prepared to give. "You're Mamoru, aren't you?"

"How did you—"

"Usagi-chan mentioned that she'd accidentally gone to the wrong floor and ended up disturbing, in her words, 'a drop dead gorgeous guy named Mamoru with stormy blue eyes.' I can only assume she meant you."

Minako grinned, and I no longer cared what shade of crimson my face had become as my battered heart beat wildly in my chest. Usagi didn't remember me, but at least she didn't find me disgusting. That was something, I suppose. "So how can I help you, Mamoru-san?"

"I—"

Perhaps it was the way she spoke, with such openness and empathy. Perhaps it was her uncanny resemblance to Usagi, with those sparkling eyes that drew me in inexplicably. Likely it was her closeness to Usagi, an intimacy that I would have given anything to have. Whatever the reason, the words soon spilled from my lips like a waterfall that had been dammed for too long. Over steaming cups of tea (luckily for me, Minako wasn't a coffee drinker so I was spared from the lure of that intoxicating substance), I recounted the accident that left me a memory-less orphan, the initial days at the hospital, my brief time with Usagi, and the last decade that I'd spent dreaming of my tiny angel.

Minako turned out to be a great listener, who'd kept silent throughout my pitiful story save for a few well-placed sighs and gasps. At the end, she wordlessly put a warm hand on mine, and I was oddly comforted by her simple touch.

"If I have this right, then, you've loved Usagi-chan for the better part of a decade. But it seems that she…doesn't remember you exist," Minako surmised bluntly.

Love…all this time, I'd never once admitted even to myself that I loved Usagi. I couldn't deny it. In the beginning, perhaps, I had loved her as a friend, someone to whom I could share my darkest fears. Over the years, however, I grew from loving Usagi to being _in _love with her, fueled by those few precious memories that I clung to with startling intensity. Yet in confessing all this to Minako, I came to the sad realization that I knew next to nothing about the girl that I pined for. I wanted to know more, was desperate to know more, to know _her_…but was that fair to her?

"Has she ever—has she ever mentioned anything about me? I mean, anything about her time in the hospital?" Any trace that she remembered those few days which had permanently shaped me would suffice.

Minako shook her head slowly, and I couldn't help my sigh of disappointment. "We've been friends for a couple years now, but…no, I don't think she has. Gomen..."

"It's probably better that way," I said quietly. "I'm not…I'm not the most cheerful person to be around, if you haven't noticed already."

She laughed, and I caught myself wondering if Usagi's laugh also sounded so carefree. "I think Usagi-chan's cheerful enough for the both of you." Her eyes grew serious as she considered her next words. "I think you should tell Usagi-chan. She'd like to know, I'm sure of it."

"No," I cringed at the desperation that dripped from my voice, "please don't. Please. I didn't tell you any of this so you could…" I ran a hand through my tousled hair in frustration. "I don't know, _force_ her to remember or anything like that. I just…"

"Mamoru-san, I won't say anything if you don't want me to." Minako fortunately silenced my nearly incoherent speech. "But the way she talked about you earlier, you'd think she was half in love already."

I held my breath, not daring myself to hope.

"Even if she doesn't remember your history…is that any reason to not give her a chance now?"

"Minako, it's me that doesn't deserve her, not the other way around."

"You're impossibly stubborn, you know that?" She crossed her arms in annoyance.

I smiled bitterly. "My best friend Motoki tells me that all the time."

"Then will you see her again?" At my silence, she scratched her head thoughtfully, then her eyes lit up like a flame of blue fire roaring to life. "Tomorrow Usagi-chan, some other friends, and I are all going to a new arcade downtown. Our old spot closed down last month, so we were going to give the Crown Arcade a try."

I could hardly believe my ears. Was Minako now trying to set me up with Usagi? Did she really think it was that simple, that somehow we'd meet, somehow I'd convince her to love me, and we would live happily ever after? Couldn't she see by now that I wasn't some prince charming come to sweep my angel off her feet?

"Motoki works there," was all I managed to say to her ridiculous proposal, "but Minako…"

"Perfect!" She seemed mightily pleased with her plan, and I bit back a retort before I cast a dark cloud over another person who only wished me well.

"I have to go." I stood up and flashed her my half-hearted attempt at a smile. "Arigato for the tea and…for your time."

"See you tomorrow then?"

I shifted uncomfortably but couldn't bear to lie to her outright. "We'll see."

I just had maintain my resolve not to step foot into the Crown tomorrow.

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><p><em>Chapter 1 complete! I'll work on getting the next chapter, along with a chapter to "Shipwrecked," out soon. Until then, have a very happy New Year!<em>

_This story was written and posted January 2015. _


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